


the stars are not wanted now, put out every one

by neenswrites



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Eulogies, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wakes & Funerals, Weddings, a little fluff, no depiction of death, no description of death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23168755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neenswrites/pseuds/neenswrites
Summary: “Death is what makes all the things we do while we’re alive all the more precious. But there has never been anything more precious to me than you.”-Or four funerals and a wedding.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Takeda Ittetsu/Ukai Keishin
Comments: 15
Kudos: 38





	1. pack up the moon and dismantle the sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'You didn’t start playing volleyball for me, and you won’t stop it either’,” Hinata mocks, flattening his hair with a shaky hand before dragging it down the side of his face. “And he’d be right. I didn’t.”
> 
> “But I learned to fully love it with him. I learned to love him because of it. And I learned to love me, my own me that’s not measured up to somebody else, thanks to him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah this is gonna be sad. There will be 4 really sad funerals of some beloved hq characters and 1 wedding to make things more lighthearted
> 
> For those who may be concerned, there will be no depictions of the death or description of how they die – I leave that entirely up to the reader. This will instead be focused on the funeral, and specifically the eulogies of their significant others and thoughts of the guests in attendance.
> 
> I don’t think there’s anything specifically triggering that isn’t included in the tags, but if there’s any additional warning you think may be appropriate please let me know and I will happily include it!
> 
> the title and chapter titles are all pulled from this [poem](https://web.cs.dal.ca/~johnston/poetry/stopclocks.html)

Akaashi Keiji has never had much fondness for the color black.

While it wouldn’t surprise anyone that he isn’t a fan of bright or vibrant colors, black has always felt too dark and domineering. The only reason he hadn’t disliked his old high school volleyball jersey is because its black had been juxtaposed to a brilliant white and a bold gold.

Well, that and because—

“Keiji,” Bokuto says, interrupting him from his thoughts. His normally boisterous boyfriend looks so somber, and Akaashi can’t help but wonder how that means he himself looks. “It’s time to head out.”

Akaashi nods but studies Bokuto for a second longer before opening his arms to him. Bokuto seems to deflate before his eyes, and before he can blink, Akaashi is surrounded by his arms.

“I don’t know how we’re going to handle it,” Bokuto confesses with a shaky voice, and Akaashi feels tears well up in his eyes.

“We’ll be there for him however he needs us,” Akaashi replies, running his fingers through Bokuto’s hair. “That’s all we can do.”

Bokuto nods but stays locked around the shorter man for a couple moments more. They both need this, need to get this out of their system now so that they can be shoulders to cry on later.

As they ease apart, and slowly make their way out their front door, Akaashi grabs his coat without a second thought.

He didn’t need to look at the sky to know that it would be overcast.

-

When Hinata had asked Akaashi and Bokuto to sit in the first row, Akaashi had felt both overwhelmingly touched and worried.

While throughout high school he and Bokuto had joked about adopting Hinata from Karasuno, once Hinata joined the Black Jackals, that basically became true.

The fondness and pride they felt in high school from watching Hinata grow as a player only grew once he was directly under Bokuto’s wing as a pro. Bokuto spends extra practices with his self-described disciple, and Akaashi always demands that he invite Hinata back to their place on those nights to offer him dinner and company.

And even though the age gap wasn’t very wide, Hinata’s bright eyed optimism and determination often left Akaashi with an undeniable urge to protect the man.

So, to know that he feels so strongly for them that he would have the duo as part of his support system during this time does truly touch his heart.

But in getting closer to Hinata, they had ultimately become much closer with Kageyama Tobio as well. And that makes this so much harder.

Not that Akaashi dare imagines they’re the only ones feeling this way.

Walking up to the dreaded first pew, Akaashi recognizes Yachi sitting directly next to Hinata in the corner of the row. He’s only met the woman a few times but knows from Hinata that she’s been incredible during this entire ordeal.

Hinata, himself is sitting so hunched over that it looks like his grief is attempting to pull him into the ground.

Yachi catches their eyes, and murmurs something to Hinata. He immediately straightens his back and turns to look over at them.

“Hey,” he says, and the wobbly smile on his face almost distracts from the relief heavy in his voice. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Of course,” Akaashi responds, because no matter how hard this would be, they would weather this for him. “Anything you need, you know that.”

“We’d also be here even if you hadn’t asked us,” Bokuto adds, and Akaashi feels the tears already begin to gather in his eyes. “He meant a lot to us too.”

Hinata’s smile wavers for a moment before he launches himself at the two of them, his arms reaching around them both and pulling them close.

“Thank you,” he says while his shoulders shake, and their shirts get damp. And all they can do is grip him back just as tightly.

-

As more people settle in, Akaashi can’t say he’s surprised at the number of people in attendance. Hinata is a well-loved person, and Kageyama had been an incredible role model for people all across Japan. And while there is a more public memorial planned, this funeral is meant for those who really knew Kageyama.

So far, and without really trying to look for anyone, Akaashi has seen everyone who had been on the Karasuno team from his high school days, along with all the current members of the Black Jackals and Adlers. Hinata and Kageyama’s family are seated in the pew directly across from where Akaashi is, with Natsu in the innermost corner. There are other people, most Akaashi assumes from the world of volleyball, and he even thinks he sees Oikawa with someone a couple rows back, meaning he flew in for this.

“Shouyou has a really incredible skill of making friends with just about anyone, and Tobio’s an international icon,” Kenma says from his seat next to him, bringing Akaashi’s attention away from the growing audience. The man’s eyes are focused on where his hands are intertwined with Kuroo, who’s speaking with a smiling Yachi. “This is supposed to be the smaller funeral, but between the two of them, a lot of people really care about what happened.”

Kenma’s near mind reading capabilities would certainly come in handy today.

“I’m a little worried about what that means for Shouyou though,” Kenma trails off before biting at his lip.

“I have a feeling I know what you mean,” Akaashi sighs, and he almost smiles as Kenma’s shoulders relax just a touch.

Hinata wouldn’t have all these people here if he thought it would dishonor Kageyama’s wishes or memory. He also needs all the love and support he can get right now and has plenty of people willing to provide it.

But Hinata has an awful habit of putting on a brave face for people before breaking down in private at a later time. And with the eulogy he has to give…

“I…have a feeling he’s going to force himself to seem better than he is to keep people from worrying,” Kenma replies slowly, finishing Akaashi’s thought for him. “And that can only last for so long.”

“Well that’s what we’re all here for,” Bokuto says, startling Akaashi as he settles into the seat next to him. “Hinata trusted us to be there for him, a good decision since the two of you are already thinking so far in advance.”

Akaashi sends Bokuto a grateful smile and catches a small flush rise on Kenma’s cheeks.

“None of this is going to be clean cut or easy,” Bokuto continues, voice more solemn. “But all we can do is be there for him.”

A beat of silence falls over them.

Before any of them can speak again, Kageyama’s mother is rising from her seat and walking towards the podium in the front of the room. The silence that was only encasing the three of them suddenly spreads across the audience.

Akaashi’s chest tightens as he realizes how truly unprepared he feels.

Kageyama’s mother looks sad in a way that only a parent who’s buried a child can look. She begins speaking, thanking the people in attendance and delivering other platitudes, but Akaashi can’t help but think of  _ his _ parents.

Would they attend his own funeral?

He hasn’t spoken a word to them since he left for college, not since they found out about him being with Bokuto. Their final conversation, if you could count it as such, was them lamenting over how they’d be viewed, how selfish he was after everything they’d done for him, and how if he left then, he’d never be allowed to return.

He hadn’t even spared a glance back.

But now, watching as Kageyama’s mother chokes back tears before the audience, Akaashi wonders if his own death would be enough for his parents to see him again.

Or if they would turn their back on their son one final time.

Akaashi nearly jumps out of his seat as he feels an arm reach around him, and then relaxes as he feels himself pulled into Bokuto’s side. Bokuto’s other hand reaches for Akaashi’s own, and Akaashi squeezes as their fingers intertwine.

It didn’t matter what his parents did. He made his choice, and it’s the best one he’s ever made.

Head resting against Bokuto’s chest, he half listens as the ceremony continues. While he wishes he could give it his full attention, he needs to be strong when Hinata goes up, and listening to friends and family lament over the loss Kageyama would make that impossible for him.

And then suddenly Hinata is being called up, and Akaashi feels himself tense all over as he walks up with a sheet of paper in his shaky fist. He watches as Hinata forces a smile on his face, and never has a smile looked so wrong on that face.

“First, I want to thank everyone for being here tonight,” Hinata starts, gripping tightly at the paper in his hands. “It means the world to me that so many people care about Tobio.”

“And this isn’t even the bulk of it,” Hinata laughs, and Akaashi allows a small smile to grace his face because it sounds genuinely happy. “His public memorial is in two weeks, and even more people are going to be there!”

“And it’s really not a surprise, because Tobio is a hero. He's a hero for kids, teaching them that passion and hard work really can make dreams come true. He's a hero for adults, bringing the county pride when he led Japan to place in the Olympics for the first time in almost 40 years.”

He pauses, and Akaashi’s smile drops as Hinata’s own smile begins to slip. His eyes stare at the paper in front of him a moment more before he raises them to meet the audience.

“And he’s always been my hero too.”

Akaashi grips Bokuto’s hand a little tighter.

“I know that might surprise people who’ve known us for a while,” Hinata continues with another laugh, much shakier than the last. “But even when we were stupid teenagers, I always admired him. And it wasn’t really because of his skills. It was because even when I was a beginner with basically no volleyball skills, he took me seriously. Not only did he never underestimate me, but he always managed to see me for all I could be, not just what I was at the time. And no one really looked at me like that.”

Throughout all this, Hinata’s still trying to keep a smile on his face, and Akaashi wishes he could just yell at him. Tell him he doesn’t have to be so strong and pretend like he isn’t fighting back tears just as hard as everyone else is.

“And then when we played together, he was always saying things like ‘As long as I'm here, you're invincible’ and ‘You can fly higher’, and honestly,” Hinata inhales sharply, and tears start welling in his eyes. “Honestly, I don't know how I was supposed to not fall in love with the idiot when he said things like that. And he always meant what he said too.”

“And I know because even when he was playing to beat me, he was always so genuinely happy to see me grow,” and Hinata’s breath starts to come in and out quickly. Yachi begins to stand, but Hinata waves her off and his eyes finally fall from the audience as he brings his hand to clutch at the podium.

Akaashi releases a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding in.

“Even when I left for Brazil, he never once asked me to stay for him,” Hinata says, and his voice is much lower than before. He’s still looking down at the podium, so Akaashi can’t see his face as well anymore and he wishes more than anything that he could just get a better read on him. “He talked about the decision with me, and helped me go over the pros and cons, but he never made it about him. And if he would have asked, I think I would have really considered staying. But he didn’t, and I left, and I had one of the most amazing experiences of my life while he was cheering me on from halfway across the world.”

Hinata finally looks up again, and the smile on his face is stretched so thin Akaashi nearly flinches.

“And every other day I would think ‘I want to come back here with him’. And I had always planned to, but now…” Hinata's voice breaks, and his smile finally slips entirely from his face. It feels as if the whole room, if not the whole country, has dimmed. “Now, I’ll never have the chance and, and there are so many things I’ll never have the chance to do with him, but I at least thought, what I wanted more than anything…”

Akaashi feels the entire  _ world _ darken at the expression on Hinata’s face.

“I wanted to play volleyball with him again,” Hinata says, and his tears finally spill over. His hands clench tighter at his paper until it crumples in his fist, and Akaashi feels his heart break in two. “I wanted – I wanted to play on a team with him, any team with him, because nothing would ever beat that feeling, but now, now I would give anything to have him play with me just one more time in any way.”

Hinata lets out a quiet sob, and Akaashi can’t help but tug his and Bokuto’s entwined hands to his heart.

When was the last time the two of them played volleyball?

It feels like a silly question. Akaashi works way too many hours under Udai’s thumb, and Bokuto has grueling volleyball practice nearly every day with the Jackals. They both come home exhausted on a good day, and on the verge of passing out on a bad. They don’t really have time to play a lighthearted game of volleyball together, and it truly doesn’t mean the same thing to them as it does – or  _ did _ – to Hinata and Kageyama.

And yet.

“Winning doesn’t feel the same without him,” Hinata starts again, eyes unfocused and tears trailing rivers down his cheek. “Volleyball doesn’t feel the same without him.”

And yet.

Hinata lets out a laugh, bittersweet and hollow. “He’d probably smack me on the head for that. Call me an idiot too.”

And yet.

“’You didn’t start playing volleyball for me, and you won’t stop it either’,” Hinata mocks, flattening his hair with a shaky hand before dragging it down the side of his face. “And he’d be right. I didn’t.”

And yet.

“But I learned to fully love it with him. I learned to love him because of it. And I learned to love me, my own me that’s not measured up to somebody else, thanks to him.”

And yet, Akaashi is reminded of seeing a first-year high school student play volleyball so breathtakingly that he makes a choice for his own high school on the spot. A choice that would catapult him to the best love he could ever hope to find.

Akaashi tightens his hold on Bokuto, and, for what feels like the first time, though he doubts that’s true at all, he feels him squeeze back just as hard.

“Kageyama Tobio, you are the love of my life,” Hinata says, eyes trained on the ring on his finger. “And you’ve always said I’ve outshined the sun, but I’m not sure I know how to do that anymore. But I’ve always believed you, and I’m not going to stop now.”

-

“I over-thought that entire situation over 100 times, and it somehow managed to be worse than everything combined,” Kuroo sighs as he collapses into the couch next to Kenma.

“I tried not to think about it much at all, expect the unexpected and all that,” Akaashi replies, swirling the plum wine around in his cup absentmindedly. “Didn’t help me either.”

“It seems cruel that funerals and weddings are so similar,” Kenma says as he stares across the room. Akaashi follows his line of sight and finds Hinata there smiling with his old Karasuno team. “They both usually take place in a church, have long emotional ceremonies, and are followed by receptions where people drink and talk to the 'honored guests'.”

“They’re both major steps in life,” Kuroo agrees, thumbing at the engagement ring on Kenma’s finger. They’re both silent for a moment, before Kuroo stands back up with a heave.

“Come on,” he says, reaching out a hand to Kenma. “Let’s go crash the crows.”

Kenma smiles softly as he’s pulled up and looks at Akaashi.

“You two go ahead,” he replies. “I don’t want to be gone when Bokuto gets back.”

They both nod and wave as they leave him, but Akaashi is more concerned with locating his boyfriend. He’d stepped away for what Akaashi had assumed to be refreshments, but he’s been gone for some time now, and Akaashi is beginning to worry.

After a few more minutes pass, he resolves to look for his boyfriend. While he’s well acquainted with Hinata’s and Kageyama’s - or just Hinata’s now - apartment, he has never seen it filled with so many people. And with everyone garbed in such dark clothing, all the bodies seem to blend together, and Akaashi becomes quickly overwhelmed.

He figures Bokuto would have found himself in a similar situation.

And that’s how Akaashi finds himself at the balcony of the apartment. Bokuto’s head turns towards him as he opens the door, and Akaashi is both relieved to have found him and relieved that no one else is out here.

“Keiji,” Bokuto breathes from his spot on the floor, and Akaashi finds himself at his side in an instant.

“Koutarou,” he responds as he relishes the way it feels to say his name. He looks at Bokuto’s face, trying to make sure everything is okay. Or as okay as they could be. “I was worried.”

“I’m sorry,” Bokuto sighs, leaning heavily against Akaashi. “I was just feeling really overwhelmed and needed the air.”

“I felt it too,” Akaash confesses. He finally tears his eyes away from Bokuto and looks out at the city skyline.

The sun has been absent all day, but Akaashi thinks that if it were here it’d be bathing the city in pink and orange as it set.

He’s rather happy that it’s gone.

He instantly feels guilty.

“What is it?” Bokuto asks, and Akaashi isn’t sure if he wants to praise or curse his ability to read him so easily.

“It’s nothing really,” Akaashi begins, though he knows Bokuto isn’t going to let him drop it. “I just…had the thought that the gloomy weather is rather appropriate for all that’s happening. Which isn’t quite right…”

“Well why not? It feels really appropriate to me.”

“Yes, but I can’t help but think that isn’t what Kageyama would have wanted.”

“…And how do you figure that.”

Akaashi turns his head to Bokuto, a bit startled. But all he’s met with are furrowed brows and downturned lips.

“Well, I would assume that most who’ve passed wouldn’t want the weather on their funeral to be so gloomy,” Akaashi replies slowly. He wasn’t quite expecting to have to explain this and is having trouble finding the words. “They’d want to leave…on a high note, I guess.”

Bokuto considers this, though he still looks bothered. Akaashi tries to think of a better way to phrase it, but Bokuto is turning back to look at him.

“I’m not sure what they want really matters,” Bokuto replies slowly.

Akaashi tilts his head in confusion but lets him explain.

“Not to say that we shouldn’t honor the wishes of the dead,” he continues, and Akaashi nods to show he’s following along. “But they  _ are _ gone. Funerals are really meant for those of us left behind, a chance for us to grieve together and to try and make sense of everything.”

“So whatever helps us move on is what the funeral should be about,” Akaashi replies slowly, making sure he understands what Bokuto’s saying. When he nods with a relieved grin, Akaashi takes a moment to consider his words.

“Maybe not the whole funeral,” Bokuto amends at Akaashi’s silence, but Akaashi just gives him a reassuring smile. “But at least some part of it.”

Akaashi sharply inhales.

“…are you talking about Hinata’s eulogy?”

“A little bit,” Bokuto quietly confesses. “He was trying so hard to look happy for us, and I just wanted to scream at him to forget it. Who cares if we can take his tears? But I also knew it wasn’t just for us.”

“Kageyama.”

“Yeah. He wanted to be the Hinata that Kageyama saw him as, but Kageyama never would have wanted to put him through that.”

Akaashi hums in consideration. He pulls Bokuto’s hands in his lap and begins tracing his fingers.

“So, he was allowed to be more selfish.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto sighs, and Akaashi feels it against him. “I think any of us are allowed to be selfish in that situation.”

“I almost wish we were a bit more selfish,” Akaashi replies as he focuses his eyes on Bokuto’s bare ring finger.

“No, you don’t,” Bokuto replies and Akaashi is taken off guard as he’s pulled into Bokuto’s lap. “You’re too good. That’s why you were the one who first said we should hold off on announcing our engagement.”

“You would have said it too,” Akaashi protests, adjusting his position on Bokuto’s lap so that he could see his face more clearly. “I just happened to bring it up first.”

“And that’s how I know you could never be that selfish,” Bokuto says. He’s smiling at Akaashi, the first real smile he’s seen from him in a long time, and Akaashi melts. “Everything happening all around us, and your first thought is to put a pause on your own happiness.”

“The engagement isn’t my happiness,” Akaashi says with a fond roll of his eyes. “You are.”

And as Bokuto squeezes him against his chest, Akaashi can’t hold back the small laugh that escapes him.

There are a couple things he can be selfish about anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at me abt this or with me abt hq on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/bestkindoftrash)
> 
> i have another, much softer story i'm working on as well if you want to check it out!


	2. silence the pianos and muffle the drum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I hate every noise that isn’t him,” Keiji confesses, and Kenma feels his heart clench. “I hate every sight that isn’t him, every smell, every taste, and I feel colder than I ever have in my entire life without him with me. And I’m angry, so very angry, but there’s no one to be angry at.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a little longer than i thought to finish up, but i hope you like it!

Kenma hadn’t thought that he would ever attend a funeral more painful than the one of Kageyama Tobio, bar the eventual one for his parents of course.

But this just might beat it out.

“We can be late,” Kenma says from his seat on the edge of the bathtub. His eyes are trained on Kuroo, who sits despondently in the lukewarm water of the tub. “Keiji would understand.”

And Kenma knows that he would. There is no denying the bond that Bokuto and Kuroo shared was something undeniably special. If Kuroo needs more time before attending his funeral, then there isn’t a single person who’d think less of him for it, least of all Akaashi.

“Would I be the worst person ever if I just didn’t go at all.”

Kenma tilts his head, trying to catch Kuroo’s gaze with no success. Huffing quietly, he quickly removes his clothes and joins Kuroo in the tub. Kuroo doesn’t fight him when he settles himself over his thighs and brings his hands up to cradle his face.

Kenma still isn’t used to seeing the sadness that swallows up Kuroo’s eyes. It’s been a little over two weeks since they found out about the tragedy, and since that moment it seems like a light has gone out from inside Kuroo. And there was nowhere that showed that more obviously than his eyes.

“I don’t think you’d be a bad person,” Kenma says softly, caressing the dark bags under Kuroo’s eyes with his thumb. “I also don’t think Keiji or anyone would hold it against you. But,” And Kenma pauses to ensure that Kuroo’s gaze is focused on him. “I don’t think you’d forgive yourself if you didn’t go today. I think you’d beat yourself up about it for the rest of your life. And I also think that part of you wants that. Because you know you can’t reasonably blame yourself for his death, but you want something to blame yourself for anyway.”

Kuroo begins to shake beneath him, and his eyes start to overflow with tears, but Kenma refuses to let go until he gets through to Kuroo.

“Koutarou would not want you looking for ways to make yourself miserable over his death,” Kenma says, and he feels his own throat begin to choke up. He may not have been as close as Kuroo, but Koutarou was still one of the closest people in his life and his death is still so fresh. “He’d want us all to remember him as he lived, not dwell on the fact that he died.”

Sobs begin racking Kuroo’s chest, and Kenma pulls his face into his neck as his own tears begin to fall down his face.

“I feel so awful, and so goddamn helpless,” Kuroo says against his shoulder, and Kenma runs his fingers through his hair. Anything to encourage Kuroo to talk this out. “And it doesn’t even seem fair because Akaashi hasn’t even been as useless as me, and he lost his fucking husband.”

“You don’t know what Keiji’s been through,” Kenma chides gently. “For all we know he’s been in tears anytime he’s not around us.”

And that has been one of Kenma’s biggest worries. Keiji has been incredible in the planning aspects of this, and has already set up this first funeral, the public funeral, and is in conversation of getting a public memorial put up for Koutarou. And he’s cried with them many times, but Kenma can’t help but worry that he’s still holding back so much.

“I know, I know,” Kuroo says with a sigh, pulling Kenma from his thoughts. Kenma’s heart clenches at the heaviness his voice carries, but Kuroo speaks up before he can say anything about it. “You’re allowed to grieve too though.”

Kenma chest hiccups, and he pulls back to look back into Kuroo’s eyes.

“…I guess I’m kind of a hypocrite. I feel like I don’t get to feel as sad because you were his best friend,” Kenma confesses quietly. “But that’s what was amazing about him. He had enough love to go around, and everyone who’s ever been at the receiving end of it feels a little less whole now.”

Kuroo hums and pulls their intertwined fingers to his lips. Kenma stares at the bands that glisten in the light, and one of his largest regrets comes to mind.

He’s needed time to build up to the attention a wedding would require. He wants to marry Kuroo, but just the idea of standing in front of an audience of their peers to declare their love to each other makes him start to shake. And Kuroo has been patient in waiting for him. 

But Kenma waited too long. 

Because now a person who means the world to both of them, a person who should have been Kuroo’s best man, a person who would have given the most incredible speeches, will never be able to celebrate their love with them.

It’s something that’s been looming over Kenma, and he doesn’t even know how to begin bringing it up.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Kuroo says after some time, snapping Kenma out of his reverie. Kenma looks up to promise him he won’t ever have to worry about that, but the look in Kuroo’s eyes stops him cold. “I don’t think I would ever be able to handle losing you like this.”

Fear, cold and sharp, seizes at Kenma’s chest, and his grip tightens on Kuroo’s shoulders.

Surprisingly, the thought of losing Kuroo hasn’t crossed his mind once during this whole ordeal. What with the initial shock, the immediate grief, and the need to comfort a good portion of the people around him, Kenma hasn’t really had time to contemplate more than his own mortality.

Thinking about Kuroo’s is so much worse.

Just the thought of not having Kuroo by his side like he’s always been since they were kids is enough for his breath to catch in his throat. The idea of Kuroo passing before him and leaving him all on his own feels so wrong in his mind he almost shakes his head to rid himself of the thought.

He could never imagine losing Kuroo, because he thinks he’d be losing a part of himself too.

“I think I’d be worse off,” is what he manages to choke out.

“Would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would not,” Kuroo replies again, before pulling Kenma against his chest to muffle his reply. Kenma huffs against his chest and feels Kuroo breath out a small laugh.

Progress.

“We should probably get up if we’re going to make it in time for Akaashi’s eulogy,” Kuroo says, and Kenma allows himself a small smile against his collarbones.

“We can stay for a few more minutes,” Kenma replies, adjusting his arms so they’re wrapped loosely around Kuroo’s waist.

“What do you mean? We’re already definitely going to be late in general—”

“The funeral doesn’t start for another two hours,” Kenma interrupts, closing his eyes and resting more fully against Kuroo. “I told you an earlier time because I figured you’d need something like this.”

Kuroo freezes, and Kenma’s eyes open as he worries that maybe he overstepped.

He doesn’t get to overthink his decision a second more before Kuroo’s hands are grasping at his head and pulling him close to press his lips against his forehead, then he cheeks, and then his nose.

“I love you,” Kuro breathes against him, and Kenma feels his own body begin to shake. “I love you so much, God, I just, I love you—”

Kenma closes his eyes. He needs this extra time more than he cares to admit as well. 

-

Given the size of the venue, Kenma is surprised at the amount of people that have managed to squeeze in. He tightens his hold on Kuroo’s arm as they try to make their way through the crowd to the reserved seating in the front.

“Kuroo, Kenma!” Kenma bumps into Kuroo’s back as the man in front of him stops cold, and peers around him to see who's calling them.

His eyes widen as he sees Bokuto’s mother making her way to them.

Kenma has been fully prepared to comfort both Kuroo and Akaashi. He has also anticipated needing to be there for Hinata, Atsumu, and Tsukishima as well.

He is not at all prepped for consoling a grieving mother.

“Bokuto-san,” Kuroo begins to greet, but he’s cut off as he’s pulled into her arms. Kenma has half a second to register what’s happened before he is pulled in alongside Kuroo.

“I’m so glad you boys could make it,” she murmurs in their ears, and Kenma reaches around to hug her back. She is one of the kindest women he’s ever met, and the least he can do is offer her comfort.

She pulls back and raises each of her hands to cup his and Kuroo’s cheeks.

Kenma takes in the many wrinkles on her face, the frailness of her body, and the gentleness of her hold. She looks much older than Kenma remembers, and he tries to think of the last time he saw her. They’d definitely seen each other at Bokuto and Keiji’s wedding a few years ago, and Kenma used to see her a fair amount when he was back in high school and college. But it feels like it’s been a lifetime since then.

Kenma realizes belatedly that it technically has been.

“Are you boys coming to my home for food after this?” she asks, and Kenma smiles softly at her warm tone.

“Of course,” Kenma speaks up, and he feels her grip tighten just a bit. “I’ve always looked forward to visiting you.”

“I haven’t had a good homemade meal I haven’t had to make myself in ages,” Kuroo sighs as he sides eyes Kenma. Kenma fights the childish urge to stick his tongue out and settles for subtlety pinching Kuroo’s side.

He jumps in place, and Bokuto’s mother smiles at them fondly.

“Seeing the two of you reminds me of when he was in high school,” she whispers. Kenma feels bereft as she pulls her hands away and wraps her arms around her middle. “Please go check on Keiji for me. He’s nervous about his eulogy – I’ve already given him my blessing, but I know he still worries.”

They nod, and she sends them a grateful smile before shuffling away.

Kenma shares a look with Kuroo, and then they’re shoving their way up to the front with renewed energy. He’s not quite sure what Bokuto’s mother had meant, but if she’s worried about Akaashi then they absolutely need to be there for him.

Once they finally make it to the front, Kenma sighs in relief. It only takes a moment to locate Akaashi and the dirty blonde head next to him.

“Keiji,” Kenma calls out, and he reaches his hand up to wave as the man in question turns quickly. Akaashi’s face floods with relief as he sees them, and Kenma is glad he and Kuroo decided to come.

“I’m glad you’re able to be here,” he says as he reaches for both their arms. Kenma studies him as he speaks, but he seems much more put together than he expected. But it is Akaashi after all – few people are as adept at keeping a calm facade as he is. “I know this hasn’t been easy for the two of you…”

“Which means we should all be together, not apart,” Kuroo finishes for him. Akaashi squeezes their arms even tighter.

“Misery loves company,” Kenma says under his breath, but by his quiet huff of laughter, he’d wager Akaashi caught it. And by the startled noise that comes from his right, he’d say he wasn’t as quiet as he thought.

“Konoha,” Kuroo greets before the man can begin reprimanding Kenma for his joke. Good. If Akaashi doesn’t mind, then no one else has any right to judge him.

“Kuroo, Kozume,” he replies, his mouth pinched as he says their name. Kenma can’t stop the scrunch of his nose at the sound of his surname, and Konoha narrows his eyes at him. Before they can get into any sort of argument, Akaashi is moving his hand from Kenma’s arm to Konoha’s shoulder.

“I know you all haven’t always gotten along,” he begins with a pointed look at everyone that causes Kenma to feel ashamed. “But you all meant a great deal to Bokuto. So please, for his sake, keep it civil.”

“Sorry Keiji,” Kenma says softly, and the others echo his sentiments.

“The funeral is set to start soon,” Akaashi continues as if none of them had spoken. “So, we should all take our seats now.”

Kenma follows after Akaashi, reaching back to grab Kuroo by his hand as he trails behind him. They barely approach the bench before Kenma is being yanked by his wrist into the spot directly by Akashi, Kuroo following right along. Kenma looks to Akaashi, but the other man’s eyes are trained directly in front of him.

Slowly, so as not to send the wrong message, he slides his wrist from Akaashi’s grasp. Before he can pull away completely though, he clasps his hand in his own, and squeezes so he knows Kenma doesn’t mind. Akaashi squeezes right back.

With a quiet sigh of relief, Kenma rests his head against Kuroo’s shoulder and closes his eyes as he waits for the procession to start.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

When Bokuto’s family goes up to speak, Kenma is surprised at the sheer number of them that have managed to make their way here for this. He knows his family is quite large, but he hadn’t realized Bokuto himself had been that close to so many of them. But they continue coming, each with a personal story to tell about him, each nearing tears as they finish.

Kenma leans to look at the row across from them and isn’t surprised to find Akaashi’s family absent. He can’t help but wonder if he hadn’t invited them, or if they just haven’t bothered to come.

He isn’t able to consider the question for long because Akaashi is now standing up, and Kenma can’t help the way his hand feels cold as he pulls away. Kuroo shifts so that his arm is wrapped around Kenma’s shoulders, pulling him closer to his chest, and he almost smiles as he’s surrounded by his warmth.

Akaashi settles himself behind the podium, back straight but eyes trained below him. Kenma wishes he could catch his gaze, but what he can see of his face seems expressionless.

“I love how writers are able to make language sound so beautiful,” Akaashi starts, and Kenma blinks in surprise. His voice sounds steadier than he’d expected it too, and he even has no notes or papers up with him. “I love metaphors and imagery and juxtaposition, and how an incredible writer can manipulate all these things to create moments that take you breath away.”

“But above all that I love honesty. Many people who know me have said that I’m too blunt, and that I’d be better off keeping my thoughts to myself,” Akaashi chuckles ruefully. Kenma’s eyes flicker to where his fists clench on top of the podium. “But Koutarou never asked that of me. In fact, it was his honesty in how he lived his life that made me fall in love with him. So…”

Akaashi pauses and, to the surprise of Kenma, shifts his gaze towards the audience. Kenma looks over just in time to see Bokuto’s mother nod with a small supportive smile before his attention is pulled back by Akaashi’s shaky exhale.

“So,” he repeats more resolutely as he pulls his shoulders back. “In honor of that honesty, of Bokuto, I will be completely honest in this eulogy.”

Kenma tenses.

“I don’t think that it’s at all fair that he’s gone,” Keiji says, and gone is the composed air he’d been maintaining since the day of Koutarou’s death. His eyes are glaring at the podium in front of him, and Kenma worries he may begin shaking soon. “I am forlorn and sad, yes, but I’m also so angry because neither of us deserved this. He should not have been taken from us, and if there was a way to drag him back, I would’ve done it by now – no matter the cost.”

“And I’m happy for the life he lived, in the way anyone can be happy in this situation,” Akaashi continues with a defeated looking shrug. “Because he did so many things, and it was only ever things he wanted to do, and his life was so very full. But there were still many things left for him to do and now he can’t.”

Kenma has been thinking of this since he heard the news. Bokuto was so full of life, and energy, and wants, and that’s one of the most shocking parts about his death. He had seemed untouchable by death for Kenma. Or for anyone, he’s willing to bet.

“And it may seem self-centered to you all, but I’ve always considered us the protagonists of the world,” Akaashi says with another bitter smile. His eyes are glassy as he looks back up at the audience, but no tears are running down his face. “And it didn’t matter to me what bumps we hit along the way, because this was our story. So, nothing could go wrong.”

Akaashi laughs, bitter and heart wrenching, and Kenma knows the way it echoes in the room will haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Obviously, I was wrong.”

Akaashi’s fists are clenched so tight Kenma worries about how his nails must be digging into the skin. He feels so conflicted – on the one hand, Akaashi’s speech has been mostly steady. Angry, yes, but he’s not choking on his tears with every other word.

But Kenma worries about the anger.

“I don’t know how to find meaning in this,” Keiji admits as frustration bleeds into the anger in his voice. “I’ve heard people say that things happen for a reason or that everyone has their time, but what reason could there be for this? How could this be his time when I know there was so much he wanted to do? How could there be any meaning to the love of my life dying while I’m left here to honor his memory.”

“And that’s all I’ve been trying to do!” Akaashi says, slamming his hands against the podium. Kenma jolts at the noise, and he feels Kuroo pull him closer to him. Akaashi sounds angrier now than he has the whole speech, and Kenma readies himself to stand up at a moment’s notice. “I’m doing all that I can to leave behind a legacy of him that matches the man he was, but everything feels like it just comes up short. How do you know someone so well, know their cadence, and their warmth, and know everything about them better than you know yourself, and  _ still _ fail at finding a way to bring all that they were in life to meaning in death?”

Akaashi’s voice cracks on the last word, and finally tears start running down his face. And running. And running. Kenma parts his lips at the sight as Akaashi’s eyes go from barely shining to pouring over. He tries to get a sense of if they’re angry tears or sad tears, and then figures they can only really be both.

“And in reality, I do know that isn’t all my fault,” Keiji says with a small sniffle. Other than the sniffle, he’s continuing on steadily as if he isn’t crying. “Koutarou was too grand to ever really capture in a single funeral, or memorial, or plaque. But I keep trying because that’s all I’m left with. Just memories and sensations full of him, all that I cherish and all that fall short to the real thing.”

Kenma squeezes his hands tighter around Kuroo. There’s hardly a memory he has that doesn’t involve Kuroo in some way. Even if he hadn’t been there physically, his support and love ran through every moment of his life, big or small.

And yet he knows that would never be enough to replace the man beside him.

Kenma frowns and fights the urge to shake his head. Now is not the time for such thoughts.

“Death is what makes all the things we do while we’re alive all the more precious,” Akaashi says and it rings hollow in his voice. “But there has never been anything more precious to me than you. So nothing really feels precious anymore; in fact, everything just feels wrong.”

And with the sentence alone, Kenma expects Akaashi’s anger to turn another notch up. However, he watches as his entire body deflates, his posture slumping over for the first time the whole speech. Kenma’s eyes widen as he begins speaking again – the anger has fully seeped out of his voice. All that’s left is sorrow and grief.

“I hate every noise that isn’t him,” Akaashi confesses, and Kenma feels his heart clench. “I hate every sight that isn’t him, every smell, every taste, and I feel colder than I ever have in my entire life without him with me. And I’m angry, so very angry, but there’s no one to be angry at.”

Kenma doesn’t dare chance a glance to his left, but he can’t help but be reminded of Kuroo with those words. Kuroo and his desire to blame himself for all this. Akaashi and his desire to be mad at anyone but unable to find a single outlet.

And Kenma and his desire to blame himself for his nerves around a wedding.

“So, I guess above all I’m heartbroken. And I’m trying to make sense of a heart that is completely shattered, but still manages to keep beating.”

Akaashi finally wipes roughly at his face before resting his elbows on the podium and his head in his hands.

“And I worried before, about being so angry during this speech. But Koutarou wasn’t just honest. He was selfless. That’s what made his honesty different from mine, what balanced us out perfectly.”

“And he once said that we are allowed to be selfish when we mourn. That we should be, because we need to do what’s best for us at this time. So that’s what I did.”

Akaashi’s eyes settle on the casket for the first time that evening. 

“But all the selfishness in the world won’t bring him back to me now.”

-

Akaashi practically collapses into Kenma’s arms, and Kenma shoots a pleading look to Kuroo. Immediately he begins fielding people away from the two, accepting comments and condolences like a pro.

“I can’t tell if I made the right choice,” Akaashi confesses into this neck. Kenma tightens his arms around him and wishes for the second time that day he had the ability to just take someone’s grief from them. “I thought I would feel better after that, but I just feel as hollow as ever.”

“There are no wrong choices in all of this,” Kenma reminds him. “You gave a beautiful eulogy about all the best parts of Koutarou, and you did it in a way he would be happy about. That’s all you had to do.”

Akaashi begins to shake in his arms, and Kenma feels tears he wasn’t aware he had leftover well up in his eyes.

They stay like that for what could be minutes or hours, and when he pulls back, Kenma notices most of the people have left. Kenma looks behind Kuroo to see him talking to one of the few stragglers, and he smiles at the sight of him until he notices that Akaashi isn’t looking at him.

His eyes seem to be stuck at the entrance of the building, and when Kenma turns to follow his gaze, his own eyes widen at the sight.

He has only met Akaashi’s parents a handful of times, back when he’d still been in high school. He barely remembers their faces; it's been so long, but Akaashi’s striking resemblance to them is clear despite how much they’ve all aged.

And despite how much they’ve aged, Kenma knows that Akaashi’s parents haven’t reached out to him in many, many years.

He moves to stand protectively in front of him as Akaashi rasps, “What on Earth are you doing here?”

His parents have the grace to look a little ashamed, but Kenma thinks that’s the very least that they could do.

“We would have been here on time if we knew about it before,” the woman – his mother – replies as she twists her fingers in her hands.

At least that answers Kenma’s question as to whether they’d been invited at all.

“How did you even know where this was going to be held?” Akaashi demanded.

“We didn’t,” his mother says, and Kenma can’t help but note how quiet his father is being. “But we remember how much you used to like this particular hall and…”

Akaashi makes a noise like he’s been wounded, and Kenma reaches out to steady him.

“I think it’s in everyone’s best interest if the two of you leave,” Kuroo speaks up from behind them, and Kenma nods in agreement. He feels the urge to pull them all out of the room, but with Akaasi’s parents right in the doorway, it seems impossible without confrontation.

“What are you, his bodyguard?” Keiji’s father sneers, and Kenma feels anger boil in his blood at the tone of his voice. “Or what, did Keiji already move on to—”

Kenma doesn’t even feel Akaashi step from behind him. He feels as if he blinks, and then suddenly there he is in front of his father, punching him across his face. Kenma’s eyes widen as his father collapses, but Akaashi doesn’t falter as he steps over his father’s body and out the building doors.

Kenma shoots a quick look at Kuroo before they’re bounding through the front doors after him without even a second glance at his parents. He feels immediate relief as he sees Akaashi just a few strides away from the steps of the building, and he rushes to his side as fast as he can.

“I guess I’m still a bit angrier than I let on,” Akaashi says once they reach him, and the fresh trail of tears on his cheeks cause even more anger to rise in Kenma.

“Keiji, wait!”

“No, you need to go away,” Kenma speaks up before his mother can even reach them. He doesn’t care what these people have to say, especially not when they’re making the whole day so much harder than it has to be on Akaashi.

“I just need to explain,” she attempts to start, but this time Akaashi interrupts her before she can finish.

“If you’re here to explain away his behavior –”

“No. Your father was wrong,” she says firmly, the first thing she’s said the entire confrontation in that tone. She settles herself with a breath, and Kenma hates himself a bit for thinking again of Akaashi’s resemblance to her. “I won’t apologize on his behalf, but I will apologize for myself. And I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I do owe you the apology.”

“I have many regrets about our relationship, and I know most of them are my own fault. But I will never be able to overcome the regret of never knowing the man that my son fell in love with.”

Akaashi gives a sharp inhale, and Kenma reaches out to steady him. He wants to tell her to leave again and he has no doubts Kuroo feels the same way. But it’s Akaashi’s call.

“And I can’t demand that you forgive me but know that I am sorry, and I want to be there for you. I want you to know that you’re not alone in all this.”

There’s a long pause, and Kenma risks a look over his shoulder at Kuroo. Their eyes meet immediately, and he knows they’re on the same page. If Akaashi wants her gone, one of them will intercept her, while the other will pull Akaashi away to safety.

“I know that already,” Akaashi finally says slowly. Kenma flicks his gaze back to him and is surprised to see that he’s not looking at his mother, but instead at him and Kuroo with a small smile. “Despite your failings, I have some incredible people in my life who’ve been reminding me constantly that I’m not alone. They’ve gone through great lengths to do so and are much better at it than you have ever been. So, I don’t need you for that.”

Kenma sees the woman flinch from the corner of his eyes, but he can’t tear his own gaze from Akaashi’s. He feels tears well up and tries desperately to fight the need to cry. He knows he and Kuroo meant a lot to Akaashi, but to hear this in a situation as bleak as this touches him in a way he can’t quite put into words.

“…But,” Akaashi continues, finally turning to look back at his mother. “If you would like to know about him, know about me being in love with him…then I’ve got the memories to spare.”

His mother immediately perks up and moves to take a step towards him, but he raises his hand to stop her.

“Not now. I have things to do, and besides that I’m still not ready to talk to you. But I still have your number, so I’ll reach out to you when I can.”

She barely has time to nod before Akaashi is walking away. Kenma and Kuroo follow after him, the silence making it feel like an eternity has passed, until he stops by the door of his car. They stand without speaking, and Kenma wishes he knew the right words to say.

“I can’t believe that really happened,” Akaashi says, staring into his car. Kenma notices the charm Bokuto had gotten him still dangling on the mirror, and immediately averts his eyes. “But if it had to happen, I’m glad that it did with the two of you by my side.”

He looks up to both of them with a smile before sliding into his car. Kenma barely has a chance to open his mouth before the car is driving away, and he’s left staring down the street.

Kenma looks up at Kuroo as he stares off into the distance and wants to mention not going to the reception. Kuroo has been so quiet during the entire evening, and if he needs a break now, Kenma wants him to take it. But Kuroo speaks before Kenma can even figure out how to begin his sentence.

“Let’s make a bet.”

“…what?”

“Let’s make a bet,” Kuroo repeats with a sigh. “A bet about which of us is going to die first.”

Kenma’s eyes widen, and he yanks hard on Kuroo’s arm.

“Don’t joke around like that,” he hisses, and he can barely hear his words over the drumming of his own heart. He feels his breaths coming in shorter, but how else is he supposed to react when he hears Kuroo say something like that with everything going on.

“Kenma, hey, breath for me okay,” Kuroo murmurs, bringing his hands up to cup Kenma’s cheeks. He strokes his face in wide arches and is looking directly into Kenma’s eyes. Kenma feels his breathing come in easier with the sure look in Kuroo’s eyes. Once Kenma begins to settle again, he begins speaking even more softly. “I’m not going to do anything reckless. Just trust me on this. Who do you think it’ll be?”

“As if I’d ever bet on you dying before me,” Kenma snaps, but his heartbeat is slowing down. Kuroo isn’t stupid, and if he says he has a reason for doing this, then he trusts him.

“Same here,” Kuroo says with a soft smile, as if the words aren’t about their impending mortality. “So, if I’m right, you have to do something for me after I’m gone. And if you’re right, then I have to do something for you, okay?”

Kenma looks searchingly into Kuroo’s eyes but can’t place why he’d want to have a discussion like this. But he reminds himself that he trusts him. And he loves him. And that’s really all he needs.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was gonna post this yesterday, but then i realized it was bokuaka day and i felt too bad abt it
> 
> per usual, you're more than welcome to come at me abt this or with me abt hq on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/bestkindoftrash)


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